There are thousands crying out from loneliness, the most widespread of the social plagues. And parties truly do not cure this disease, if the expression is permissible, for the talk at them touches only superficial subjects.

What are we to do, then? Work? But in the opinion of my friend the writer, we feel lonely in spite of the work that fills our time and our thoughts for a while. Voltaire said: "Were it not for hard work, I should have killed myself."

Be certain that people will not love you unless you love them. If you want to have a friend, you must begin with yourself. Share in the thoughts of those around you, and ask them about their work and their circumstances, without meddling in their private affairs; and do not be sparing in telling your friend your worries or your hopes, so that she may rest assured of your sincerity.

Be at ease, remembering that we are all in one boat, and that our ease affects those who journey with us. Do not fear mistakes, for no creature is perfect; and know that you cannot be a friend to someone you do not respect, for respect, in friendship, is a duty.

Do not hold back from asking your friend to do you some service, for nothing gladdens her more than this trust. Let her feel that you share her joys and her sorrows. And in order to test your friend, and to tell her apart from the flatterer, expect from her some sever

ity in her opinions, and boldness and frankness on certain occasions.

Fame, like happiness, escapes you if you set off in pursuit of it, for it is the outcome of many events and accidents, the chief of which is that radiance streaming from your own self, which charms everyone who meets you. All these things help, though they are not the effective

remedy for loneliness; for companionship matters very much, and we cannot cross through life without a companion or a friend. And that companionship — between a man and his wife, a son and his parents, and between friends — lightens the hardships of life, strips loneliness of its weapon, and secures rest and stability for the soul.

O Shadows of Extinction

Hibah al-Wadi

Take me, O shadows of extinction..

and carry my sorrowing heart

and make it dust,

and scatter my despairing soul

through the expanses of existence.

Shall I remain here,

crazed with longings,

glimpsing from afar..

my mother's grave..

fashioned from my heart's blood

and from the primal stuff of my being?

Take me, O shadows of extinction,

to where I shall not return,

for I see the faces of men

as evil.. and ugliness.

Fetter me with silence

lest I utter

what stirs up pain.

Thrust me high..

to where I cannot hear

the talk of estrangement

stumbling on the lips,

fire upon fire..

And lower me into the dust

that I may embrace peace

and kiss eternity

beside my mother.

Call me, O shadows of extinction,

and fill me with the hope of graves,

and fill me with the serenity of passing away,

and flood me with stillness..

with stillness, O shadows!

For my heart is a flame..

so why do you not make it frost,

and coolness... and peace,

and at my mother's side!!?

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